Secret Santa
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: After going through a less than desirable morning, Alfred finds a small gift on his desk from a 'Secret Santa'. What harm could that bring? .:office!AU:.
1. Part One

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Alfred knew from the very beginning that there was going to be something off about this day in general.

To start off with, he had woken up to his clock radio blaring out one of the rare songs he didn't like in the slightest (and it's been permanently scorched into his head for the remainder of the day because of that), his favorite coffee mug lost it's handle in the dishwasher, and his Mickey Mouse tie was nowhere to be found. On his way to work, a cat ran out into the street and in his panic, he swerved right into the path of a perfectly aligned row of nails that must have been the work of some neighborhood kids out to make someone's life hell.

Well, they had, and to make matters worse, one bushy browed twelve year old on his bike charged past the blonde dialing on his cell phone for assistance and kicked him forwards. Alfred fell onto the hood of his car, safe and sound, but his phone slipped from his hand, hitting the asphalt and skid right into an open sewage drain.

By the time he finally made it to work, he wanted the day to be done with. And after getting an earful from his boss, he collapsed into his cubicle and prayed that the day couldn't get any worse.

Apparently his prayers went by unheard, as now he stands in front of a red light blinking printer that refuses to cooperate with him under any circumstance.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" he growls under his breath. "I'm giving you to the count of three to print out my stuff before I go Office Space on your ass."

The printer continues to blink.

"One."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Two."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Three!"

_Blink! Blink! Blink!_

Alfred raises his arms up over the machine, ready to pound angry fist and go medieval on it's non-existent ass. Luckily for the printer (and Alfred himself, really) Kiku walks into the small room that houses the mechanism as well as other mundane office supplies.

"Um… Alfred?" he calls out, just as the frustrated blonde was ready to give the first blow. "Are you alright?"

Alfred turns his head in the other's direction, arms still raised and killing aura intact. Kiku's neutral expression gives nothing away as the blonde rapidly straightens himself and tries to laugh off the scene. When that doesn't appear to shake off the awkwardness of the situation, Alfred goes into an explanation.

"Printer wasn't working for me," he says quickly. "Tch, yeah…"

"What seems to be the problem?" Kiku asks him.

Alfred sighs dramatically before going into a tirade of how absolutely horrendous his day has been. Halfway through his rant Kiku finds the time to interrupt when the blonde pauses for a breath of air.

"I meant with the printer," he clarifies.

Alfred blinks. "Oh, um… I don't know, it's just being a jerk."

Kiku tentatively steps around Alfred and moves towards the printer still emitting it's red blink of doom. He presses some buttons, opens a hatch, removes a piece, shakes it a bit, replaces it, covers everything again, presses some more, and sheets of paper come forth in all their glory.

"Thank you very much," Kiku acknowledges to the printer before lifting the warmed up pages from their holding.

He hands Alfred's documents to him humbly enough before taking up his own. He walks out without so much as another word, leaving Alfred to gape at his sheets before throwing a dirty look at the printer and storms out of the closet himself, almost bumping into Ivan and his mail cart.

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly and leaves without hearing if the other replies or not.

He walks back to his cubicle listlessly, a complete opposite of how he would normally behave when out and about the office. Really, all he wants at this point is to make it to lunch without further incident, down a burger or four, and lift up his mood. No further disturbance, nothing else. At least until he's in a better state of mind to deal with them.

However, by the time he reaches his work space, sitting right there in front of his computer, positioned slightly on top of his keyboard, is something that is surely some sort of disturbance in the Force.

A small package wrapped in red and white striped wrapping and a blue ribbon. Seemingly innocent, but with all that's happened in the few short hours since waking up, Alfred approaches it cautiously. After prodding it with a loaned pencil (his own stash of writing utensils had run out some days before and since then he's been borrowing from others with the intent of giving them all back once he bothers to restock) and deeming it safe enough to pick up with his hands, does just that, instantly noticing a small star shape tag hanging off one of the ribbon's end.

He snatches the tag and faces it forward, immediately reading the words: _From your Secret Santa_.

Alfred frowns considerably at the note. Not because the idea of receiving a gift is somehow undesirable, by all means Alfred isn't one to pass on anything free. He frowns at the very inconceivable notion of not being aware of any sort of Secret Santa arrangement. He addresses his problem to his cubicle neighbor straightaway.

"Hey, Arthur!" he calls out before popping his head over the wall. "Are we doing a Secret Santa thing yet?"

The other male holds up a single finger to keep him from speaking to him further as he finishes a phone call. Once that's done with, he lowers the phone back into it's receiver and turns his direction in Alfred's direction.

"What is it now?" he asks.

"Our Secret Santa thing," Alfred repeats. "We're not doing it yet, right?"

"Not for at least another two weeks, I don't think. You do realize you can't make any purchases without knowing who it is you'll be buying a gift for, right?"

"Yeah, I know how it works. It's just…" He ducks his head behind the wall for a quick moment before reappearing with the small present in hand. "I got this and it says it's from my Secret Santa."

He hands the package out for Arthur to take and inspect on his own. The other does so, looking at it from a different angle before taking the tag up and reading the same words Alfred has only a few minutes ago.

Arthur hands the gift back and says, "Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with the office Secret Santa. A secret admirer, perhaps?"

Alfred takes it back while mock blushing at Arthur's words. "Oh, Artie," he says. "You don't hafta play coy with me, ya know I love ya too."

Arthur turns back to his computer screen, face flushed from the entirely false implication of Alfred's words and says, "Sod off, git, I'm working."

"No you're not, you're playing that Wizardry School."

"I am not!"

"Yeahuh, I can see the Facebook page minimized at the bottom of your screen."

Alfred ducks back down into his own cubicle before he is able to be barraged with a stack of Post-it notes, laughing over the antics of his friend when pushed too far. The whole back-and-forth seems to brighten his day all that much more, and he finds that instead of pondering over what weapon of mass destruction might be lurking behind happy Christmas wrappings sent out to make his life all that much worse, he sits back in his office chair, and tears at the gift from his 'Secret Santa'.

He blinks owlishly at the contents of his gift: A pad of monogrammed paper with his beloved stars and stripes motif faded in the background and a fancy scripted 'A' in the lower right corner, packaged along with a pen and pencil set that has his name engraved on the cap of each one.

A sensible gift, Alfred decides. Nothing frivolous or impractical like the gifts he normally gave and often received, but one that is still thoughtful and the giver obviously had him in mind when choosing it. He appreciates the consideration all the same."

"Huh… Well, thanks, Santa," he mutters to himself. "Whoever you are."

He uncaps the pen and puts it to the notepad and begins to use his gifts to his hearts content, writing out personal reminders and random notes to friends that he then goes around tossing to during the lunch hour. Receiving the unexpected present (even from an unknown source) brightens his outlook considerably for the remainder of the day, and is more than certain that this small bought of happiness is well enough to make up for most of the horrors that occurred earlier.

At least until the next day comes around and Alfred stumbles upon another wrapped up gift containing his lost cell phone with an attached note assuring him that it hadn't fallen into any water, and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place.

Even more so, as when he comes in the next day, there's another gift. Once the weekend passes and the new work week arrives, Alfred continues to receive gifts first thing in the morning consistently for a good week or so, all signed as they had been the first time.

It's unclear how much longer Alfred's Secret Santa intends to rain presents on him, as well as how much longer the giver intends to hide their identity. The whole office buzzes with questions and rumors to answer for them, but there is yet to be anyone able to come up with any circumstantial evidence for those to be proven correct. In retrospect, it's the mystery itself that keeps people talking.

It even becomes the topic of conversation one afternoon amongst Alfred and his usual lunch company as they dine in for their meal at Chotchkie's, if only because Arthur points out that the wallet Alfred now carries isn't his usual one.

"Nope," Alfred says, "Just got it today."

"Newest gift?" Francis asks.

"Yeah!" exclaims the blonde. "Which is pretty awesome, 'cause my old one was fallin' apart."

"It doesn't bother you in the slightest that most of the gifts you receive are centered around items you need?" pesters Arthur.

"Why would it?" Alfred asks back.

"Because I find it a tad strange that your 'Secret Santa' would know facts like those without stalking in some way. It's practically obsessive."

"I beg to differ," Francis comments. "It shows that whoever Alfred's admirer is has a sort of dedication and wants to give what he truly needs. I would do the same."

Arthur throws a hand gesture Francis' way and mutters, "See what I mean?"

Alfred only hums lightly before turning his head to the right and asks, "What d'you think, Mattie?"

He instantly realizes that there is no one sitting next to him.

"Did we forget Matthew again?" he quickly asks the other two.

"He went out to eat with Gilbert," Francis tells him. "He said as much before we left the office."

"I didn't even notice."

"All that aside," Arthur cuts in, "I seriously think you should be more concerned about this."

"They're just presents, Artie," Alfred replies. "It's not like they're leaving me bowls of soup on my doorstep or spying on me while I eat out."

Simultaneously, all three of them look in all directions around the restaurant for any familiar faces hiding behind menus looking in their direction, a little more conspicuously then they really should when looking for a potential stalker.

Once they settle back down, Alfred clears his throat and says, "So… we all thinking I have a stalker?"

"More or less," Arthur answers.

"It may as well just be that you speak too loudly for your own good," Francis tells him. "We were all aware of the state of your wallet after Ivan ran it over with the mail cart."

"That's true," Alfred nods. "Still, it'd be nice to know who to thank, and ask them how they knew where to find my phone."

"You might also get an extra special Christmas present if you confront them, honhonhon~."

"Alfred, scoot over," Arthur says while slipping out of his side of the booth. "I'm sitting next to you instead."

"But I'll be so lonely by myself!" Francis whines.

"That's perfectly fine by me."

"Anyway," Alfred picks up again. "What if we launch our own investigation to find the perp? Observe the rest of the week, congregate over the weekend, and see what clues we can sort out next Monday."

"You just want to see what else you can get out of this person," Arthur grumbles.

"Yeah," the blonde agrees. "I do. But, what d'you guys say? Wanna help me out?"

"May Gilbert and Antonio join?" Francis asks.

"Sure, why not?"

"You're not going to solve anything," Arthur tells him. "Not with that lot."

"Does that mean you're gonna help me, Artie?" Alfred asks, giving him puppy eyes and everything.

Arthur goes on to mutter some sort of round about agreement that makes it seem as though he would only participate in catching Alfred's alleged stalker for the greater good rather the well being of the blonde himself while their waitress brings them their ordered drinks. The conversation takes a pause while they place their orders, and once they're alone again, Alfred lifts his drink up to the two of them.

"Looks like we've got a team ready for a case to solve," he says. "We should probably let Mattie in on it, y'know, at some point."

"You need to work on your toasting skills," remarks Arthur.

"And you need to learn not to drink during office hours."

All the surrounding patrons turn to look in their direction at the sound of clanging silverware and loud swears, just in time to see Alfred laugh while ducking beneath the table and emerge on the other side next to Francis as Arthur fumes in his seat.

**xxx**

Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is you~!... and the complete Code Geass series... and some awesome hats I found at this antique store, but mostly Code Geass. What? Lelouch is gorgeous. I always love me a good anti-hero. Unless it's Frodo. Yeah...

-Nothing like an office!AU for the holidays. :3

-Three parts, next we have Alfred and Co. investigating all this 'Secret Santa' business. Hohoho~ what will they come across?

-Considering the labels and all that, I'm pretty sure we all know what's coming. Still... upcoming fluff. And possible office sex, I haven't decided.

-Hmm... I kinda wanna watch Office Space now. Haha~! Today'll be a 90's movie marathon! -runs off-


	2. Part Two

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The front door of Alfred's apartment slams open, letting the blonde himself and his company spill into it's warmer atmosphere hurriedly. Matthew, acting as the last one to enter, closes it behind him, looking a lot less bothered by the cold than the others.

"Don't get me wrong," Alfred says while stripping his coat off, "I'm all for a white Christmas, but it's frickin' freezing! Seriously, look at my ears!"

He goes on to point at his ears that have been colored red by the weather, and is ignored by the others as they take off their own outer layers of clothing. Alfred pouts slightly and places his hands on his hips.

"Hello?"

"We heard," says Gilbert, all while plopping himself on the sofa and putting his feet up. "You wouldn't stop bitchin' in the morning when you got in and then you started up again before we had to leave. Yeah, you're cold, we know."

"You should just get some earmuffs if it bothers you," Matthew comments. "It's not like they're too-"

The rest of his sentence is cut off by an undignified squawk as he moves past Gilbert to take up the space next to him and the other male feels the inclination to reach out and become grabby. Matthew smacks the other's hand away from his bottom with a fierce glare (or rather as fierce as he can muster while blushing an extreme red) before sitting further away than he intended. Though by the time the others settle down comfortably themselves, the two ended up sitting side by side in any case.

"Okay!" Alfred announces. "So as we all know, we are here today to come up with an offensive attack against my Secret Santa."

"I thought you liked getting all those gifts," Antonio says.

"Oh no, believe me, I do." He pauses to tap at the new ear buds he's been wearing since first receiving them. "But me and Artie were talking over the cubicle and thought that it might be a good idea to find out who it is before things get outta hand."

"I recall that conversation taking place at Chotchkie's," Francis puts in. "And that I was involved as well."

"Well, yeah, but we kept talking about it afterwards."

"In any case," Arthur interrupts, "it wouldn't hurt to be on the safe side and just find who this person is."

"Yeah, he's all afraid that someone's stalking me and that it's dangerous somehow," Alfred shrugs.

"It's kind of creepy," says Matthew. "But that's just what I think."

"That's exactly what I've been telling him."

Alfred claps his hands together, cutting off any further chatter. "Okay, so now that we know why we're here, any starting questions?"

Gilbert raises his hand and asks, "Can we start drinking now?"

So as the remainder of their Friday turns into a one of binge drinking (leaving them quite incapacitated in discussing anything else of further importance), Alfred's Secret Santa sits behind his computer, nibbling on his bottom lip as he scans through numerous pages of earmuffs. He noticed how red Alfred's ears had become from the cold, and the time it took for them to return to normal. He had also heard the blonde complain at the end of the day, all about not wanting to return to the freezing temperature and torment his ears in such a way.

While Alfred and his gang of misfit friends have chalked up gaining this sort of information as a byproduct of stalking, the truth of the matter is that it's simply a benefit of his Secret Santa's job. Delivering mail and passing messages for others give him the free reign of learning all sorts of tidbit information around the workplace as he walks about.

A few pages later, Ivan smiles to himself and leans back into his chair while rubbing away the dull ache in his eyes from constantly staring at the screen in front of him. After an hour or so of searching, he finally finds something that he's sure Alfred would be more than happy to receive. He goes about placing an order for pick up (how absolutely lucky it is that a nearby shop carries such an item) the next day and wanders into the kitchen to indulge himself in a dinner left by his sister before she left for her night shift, feeling sheer anticipation for the following work week to come.

When Monday rolls around, Alfred strolls in at his usual time, rubbing at his ears for warmth all through the lobby before making it into the work space. Instead of greeting all those on the way to his cubicle, Alfred makes a beeline for his desk. The reason being there was no others stationed at their own, for some reason they are gathered around Alfred's.

"What're you guys doing?" he asks, nearing the scene.

Many turn at the sound of his voice, though only one bothers to answer.

"Looks like your Secret Santa's getting bolder," says Elizabeta. She holds up a small digital camera to her chest and goes on with, "Hurry up and open it."

"What's she talking about?" Alfred directs at Arthur once he pushes past the outer layer.

"Your present today is a bit bigger than normal," Arthur answers and directs his eyes at the large box sitting on top of his keyboard. "Called everyone's attention over here."

"Even you, huh?"

"Just open it."

Alfred brushes past the other and settles down in his office chair, taking his time in making himself comfortable before even pulling the wrapped up box in front of him. Everyone surrounding him leans in closer the moment he slips the ribbon off and lifts up a piece of tape from the side and carefully removes the striped casing. Once he has that off, he lift the lid of the box only slightly, bending over to take a peep inside before letting anyone else see the contents within.

"Oh. My. God," he says and throws the lid off completely. He picks up the item inside and holds them close to his chest, wearing a bright smile filled to the brim with unadulterated delight. "They're hamburger earmuffs! This is so frickin' cool!"

True to his word, clutched against his torso are novelty earmuffs made to look like mini hamburgers.

Though Alfred seems to be completely ecstatic over the gift, even putting them on with a happy grin despite how ridiculous they make him look, the others leave the scene feeling somewhat disappointed at how anticlimactic the whole situation had been. Really though, considering who the receiver is, they shouldn't be totally surprised.

So with them gone, the only remaining people are those involved in Alfred's scheme, looking on at the blonde unsurely as he starts to sway about in his chair in a rhythmic fashion.

"These things are totally kick ass," he says. "I'm never taking them off."

"I don't doubt that," Matthew mutters.

"Your approval is hardly discouraging to your stalker," Arthur tells him.

"But how can I not love these?" Alfred asks him. "Dude, this is total Professor Frink."

Though Alfred looks on them as though that in itself should be all the explanation needed. The copious amount of exasperation and uncertainty, with minimal curiosity, in their expressions as they continue to stare back, is more than clear enough for Alfred to decipher that the reference is lost on them completely.

"From The Simpsons?" Alfred goes on. "Homer says he's gonna make hamburger earmuffs, but Frink says he'll never get passed the pickle ratio and puts on his own? How do you guys not know?"

"So here's the four eleven on what I think is the most awesome way to do all this," Gilbert says suddenly, steering the conversation away from whatever it is the blonde blathers on about. "Antonio and me have already bugged the bathrooms-"

"For what reason?" Arthur interrupts.

"It's a crucial part of the plan we came up with yesterday," Antonio tries to reason.

"It's 'cause psycho's always talk to themselves in the bathroom," Gilbert explains. "Anyway, we have those bugged."

"And my ingenious part of the plan was to slide up next to just about everyone in the office and seduce some information out of them," Francis puts in, shimmying in between Gilbert and Antonio. "With our charismatic charm, there's no way we can fail."

"We also have a stylish look to help," Antonio says and takes out a pair of sunglasses from the inside of his jacket. Both Gilbert and Francis do the same, the three of them slide them up the bridge of their noses. "Sneaky, huh?"

"Like a hippo hiding behind a flamingo," Arthur says sarcastically. "You three are complete idiots."

"I don't hear you putting out any ideas," Francis sniffs, looking very affronted and yet still oh so stylish.

"Um, I could probably get the security feed from last week," Matthew speaks up. "If I can get it, we can just watch it later and find out that way."

All eyes turned on him, staring at him with a complete look of incredulity.

"How can you do that?" Alfred asks.

"I dated Vash for awhile," the other confesses, gaining an even more unbelievable stare from all of them. "So I was just gonna ask him for a favor…"

"You didn't tell me that!" Gilbert exclaims.

"I didn't think it really mattered," the other shrugs.

"Mattie, dude," Alfred says. "You have like, the most violent taste in men, y'know that?"

Gilbert instantly rounds on him. "He does not, take that back or I'll kick your ass."

"Back to the point," says Arthur. "If you can get it before lunch, Matthew, we can watch it then."

"Oh! There's a working TV in the basement," Antonio informs them. "I found that one day Lovino locked me down there!"

"Awesome! Okay, so Mattie's gonna seduce Vash again," Alfred starts to list, ignoring the irritated expression Gilbert wears while Matthew denies that he would try anything of the sort. "The three of you are gonna interrogate… What do I do?"

"Oh! You should walk around with your earmuffs," Antonio suggests.

"That's.. actually a very reasonable idea," comments Arthur. "That way, Alfred, you'll be able to decipher through people's reactions for someone who is a little too inclined to discuss them."

"Oh yeah." Antonio breaks out into one of his bright grins. "I just thought Alfred looked really cool in them."

Alfred strikes a pose. "Don't I?"

The conversation trickles down into a reiteration of ideas and actions each of them promise to perform mixed with small talk. As Matthew reminds everyone of what it is he could provide, Gilbert drags him off for a personal discussion of their own. The storm off causes Antonio to take his own exit, going on about something or another that no one takes any particular interest in as by that point Francis and Arthur start in on a verbal spat that Alfred finds thoroughly entertaining.

After the last of them disperse from Alfred's cubicle, the blonde settles himself back into his personal work environment, earmuffs still on, and prepares for the long day ahead of him. His entire routine is interrupted however, by a sharp swear that is able to permeate through the mass of fabric covering his ears from the other side of the cubicle wall.

Alfred stands up from his chair and looks over the wall at Arthur, asking after the problem.

"Ivan didn't pick up my outgoing mail," the other replies. "Did he get you?"

Alfred leans his head back, noticing that his incoming mail has been delivered but like Arthur, his outgoing mail is still present. He quickly informs Arthur as much.

"I didn't get any new mail either," the other continues to grouse. "That's never happened before."

"Maybe when he got to us, that's when people started to crowd around," Alfred tells him. "He's like really shy, isn't he?"

Arthur, just about to brush the suggestion off as a pitiable excuse for someone to be so idle with their responsibilities, turns to face Alfred completely with an expression of some sort of sudden realization.

"What if it was everyone crowding your desk that made him leave?" he asks. "What if Ivan is your Secret Santa?"

Alfred immediately laughs lightly at the idea. "No way, I barely talk to the guy."

"That doesn't necessarily rule him out."

"Well, yeah, 'cause everyone's pretty much suspect. But I don't think he'd be high on the list."

Arthur slowly closes his eyes, all while letting out a hefty sigh before he turns away and grabs his paperwork. "Make what you will of it, I've got to take all this upstairs."

"I'll do it for ya," Alfred offers. "Gotta take mine anyway and show off these bad boys."

A small audible bell noise emits from Arthur's computer that just about cuts off any sort of rejection about to me made on the proposition. Instead, he hands over the thin white and sturdy manila envelopes to Alfred with an insincere sounding word or thanks. Alfred watches for a moment, seeing Arthur pull up a minimized window to show that baking application he had seen numerous times around Facebook. He quickly takes his leave before he is able to make a comment on how the only reason Arthur would ever play in a virtual bakery is because of his incapability of baking anything edible.

Alfred walks out of his cubicle, making his way to the elevator and taking ever opportunity to point out his latest gift to just about everyone who crosses his path. When he does reach the elevator, the metallic colored doors open and out walks Feliciano, a large jar in his hand filled with several slips of paper.

"Alfred!" he calls out. "Oh~! Are those new earmuffs? Where'd you get them? They're so cool looking!"

"I know, right!" Alfred replies just as enthusiastically. "These're like the best earmuffs I've ever seen!"

"Where did you get them? Do you think they'd have some pasta ones? I wonder what those would look like."

"Hm, maybe not pasta. Meatballs?"

"Maybe, but wouldn't they just look like regular earmuffs?"

"Not if they had some sauce on the top. Oh, it's a meatball cut in half, y'know so you can wear the flat part on your ears, and then there's red felt on top for the sauce… Maybe even with some kind of felt spaghetti on the bottom of it."

"That sounds like fun! Where can I get them?"

"Well.. We just kinda made them up right now, Feli, I dunno if they're real."

Feliciano's face falls only slightly as he begins to remember. "Oh, right… Maybe there's pizza earmuffs?"

"Maybe," Alfred laughs. "Lookit, I gotta hit up the mail room, so lemme know if you find those earmuffs."

Feliciano nods his agreement, though before Alfred is able to continue on in his journey, he calls out once more to him, "That's right! I came down here for the Secret Santa exchange. Do you want to take your pick now?"

"Sure, why not," the blonde says and shoves his hand into the jar. He grasps at numerous pieces of paper before filing it down to just one and lifts it back out, not even taking a small glance at it as he asks, "Did you get yours already?"

"Yeah, I picked it out with Lovino and Ludwig," he replies. "But I can't tell you, it's a secret."

Alfred only laughs while slipping his piece of paper into his pocket and says, "I know, I know. You should hurry up and let everyone get who they're gonna be a Secret Santa for."

Feliciano lets out a small gasp before saying his parting words and rushes off for the nearest cluster of cubicles. Alfred observes his antics for a moment or two before continuing on way. In a few minutes or so, he finds himself on a slightly more hectic floor, moving past people scurrying about until he comes across the mail room.

"Knock, knock," he announces before walking into the clustered area. "Ivan, ya in here?"

His sudden entrance startles the only occupant within, which not so surprisingly is Ivan himself. The other males fumbles with an armful of packages and other correspondences, effectively dropping the items less than gracefully.

"Alfred," he says. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"Forgot to pick up some stuff at our cubicles, big guy," Alfred replies and places all that he has been carrying on a nearby table top. He approaches Ivan and bends down to help clean up the accidental mess and continues to speak with, "You okay? Never done that before."

"I'm fine, thank you," Ivan replies kindly enough. "What are you doing here?"

"To drop off my mail," Alfred laughs. "I just said that, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, it's just.. Monday.."

"Gonna blame a case of the Mondays?" Alfred stands up along with the other male and piles some envelopes onto of the mountain Ivan already carries.

Ivan only buries his head into his scarf and mutters an inaudible reply as he sets the mail down onto his desk. Alfred pays no real attention to his behavior, figuring it to be normal since he never really does have any actual contact with the other to notice anything strange. So, instead, he blathers on about his reason for coming into his domain of letters, packages, and the like, all while asking for Arthur's mail as well since the other blonde was sure to have some sort of hissy fit if he came back without it.

Ivan complies with his request, of course, though just as it seems as Alfred is prepared to take his leave, he speaks up suddenly, saying, "Those are interesting earmuffs."

The random comment startles Alfred into a faint silence before another one of his beaming laughs covers it up as he replies, "Yeah, I know! This is like the coolest thing I've ever gotten!"

"Really?" he asks, the subtle pink dusting his cheeks going unnoticed as Alfred continues to lavish numerous praises and compliments on his new earmuffs.

"And they're just total Professor Frink, y'know," he ends.

"Who?"

Alfred's face falls once more from hearing yet another person not knowing who the nerdy professor is. "From The Simpsons? I'm beginning to think I'm the only one who watches it."

"I've only seen an episode or two some time back," Ivan confesses.

"I have like, every season ever on DVD," Alfred tells him. "I grew up with the show, it's just one of my favorites."

"Oh, so it is something you would recommend?"

"Pfft, yeah, it's only one of the best cartoons ever."

Ivan shrugs in a contemplative manner, making it seem as if he's not at all sure of the other's opinion. "I would have to watch some of the first episodes. To better compare to the more recent ones, you see."

"That'd probably would be better," Alfred agrees. "But I don't think they really show those episodes on TV anymore."

"Hm, that could be a problem," Ivan tells him with a small smile.

"Yeah…" Alfred trails off, leaving the two to be cascaded into a silence.

They remain in that silence, long enough for Ivan to look on at Alfred expectantly and the other, not knowing what it is that Ivan expects from him, starts to fidget in his place. His eyes widen though, as a sudden realization dawns upon him and another one of his signature grins works his lips.

"I know! I'll let you borrow my first season. Just gotta promise to give it back in awesome condition."

Ivan's smile twitches as he forces it to stay in place. "Of course."

"Awesome… Okay, I'll see ya later then."

And so Alfred takes his exit, not noticing the way Ivan allows his head to meet his desk and makes his way back to his cubicle. He visits Arthur's for a short while, handing him over his things and chats over what happened on his way to and from before returning to his own desk. The day more or less progresses as it often does, only being interrupted when Francis makes an appearance and says to follow after him.

"Matthew was able to get the security feed," Francis tells them, leading the two to the basement where the others already are. "Apparently Gilbert was so concerned about him having a past relationship with Vash, he even followed to oversee how Matthew went about asking him."

"Matthew was able to get the security feed," Francis tells them on their way to the basement. "Apparently Gilbert was so concerned about him having a past relationship with Vash, he even followed to oversee how Matthew went about asking him."

"Why? It's not like Mattie's gonna jump someone to get something," says Alfred. "Right?"

The two only shrug indifferently, or as indifferently as they are permitted towards the question and before long the trio bypass Antonio keeping guard near the small closed off area of the basement where Matthew and Gilbert have set up a space for their congregation. The second the two spot the others, Gilbert announces that he's had enough with trying to figure out the wiring and leaves the position open to one of them to help out Matthew. Francis takes up the job, stating that he's had experience in viewing many types of video feedback. No one bothers to comment on it.

"So did you guys find out anything before getting this?" Alfred asks.

"Nothing," Gilbert responds. "What about you two? Actually do anything?"

"Arthur tried to run by a theory of Ivan being the Santa Stalker on me earlier."

Gilbert instantly laughs at the notion. "You better hope it's not Ivan. That guy's some kind of weird."

"No he isn't," Alfred says, meaning it sincerely as well. "He's quiet and all, but that doesn't make him weird or anything."

Gilbert only shakes his head. "No, you don't know. I had to live in the same building as him for awhile, next room and everything. One time, he got so drunk he tried to drop kick a tree out on the side walk. Now, that wasn't creepy, but it was funny as hell."

"You're exaggerating," says Arthur.

"No, really! He tried to drop kick a tree."

"It's true," Matthew puts in. "He sent me the YouTube clip."

Antonio joins them as soon as he's sure the coast is clear and they are not to be disturbed. By that time Matthew and Francis have the spare television up and running, the feedback from last week showing clearly on the screen. Francis takes charge of fast forwarding through the morning up until the first people begin to show up.

"Are you sure this is from the right angle?" Alfred directs at Matthew.

"Definitely," Matthew answers. "I asked Vash to be sure before he gave it to me."

"Yeah, and then some," Gilbert mutters, obviously displeased at whatever methods it was that Matthew succumbed to in order to retrieve the video.

"Are you really going to start that up again?"

"Continue your lover's spat another time," Arthur cuts in. "We need to be paying atten-"

"Look!" Francis exclaims. "It's the Santa!"

The small group snaps their attention to the luminous screen, directly going wide eyed at the sight of one Ivan Braginsky turning his head in all directions to make sure he is not noticed before picking out a small package hidden in the mail cart along with a few more envelopes, and places it on Alfred's keyboard. He quickly goes through his regular motions before entering Arthur's cubicle, doing the same, and waltzes off screen.

Francis stops the feedback, the television screen showing nothing but a bright blue glow before being turned off all together. The room remains silent, all eyes turn to Alfred, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"Huh."

"That's all you're going to say?" Arthur asks him.

"Well, what am I supposed to say? Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur, you were right. How dare I question your Sherlock Holmesyness?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Matthew reasons. "So Ivan has a crush on you, big whoop."

"It's kind of like back in school," Antonio says. "When the quiet kid wouldn't know how to tell the one they liked that they liked them."

"Except this quiet kid is a six foot Russian who tried to drop kick a tree," Gilbert adds.

"Ah, fuck me," Alfred mutters to himself and thrusts his hands into his pockets.

The action causes one of his hands to brush up against something rough, and when Alfred pulls it out for further inspection, finds that it's the slip of paper with the name of the person he's supposed to be a Secret Santa for. He unfolds the small strip and his eye twitches at the sight of Ivan's name scribbled before him.

"Ah, fuck me!"

**xxx**

-Funnily enough, I have those hamburger earmuffs. And my reaction upon finding them was pretty much like Alfred's. XD

-And this line: "like a hippo hiding behind a flamingo", is from Atemu'sLotus. Srsly, most awesome thing I've heard in like, forever. XD

-Next chapter carries a not so awkward lunch date that's spied on and an out of control office party plus office sex. Because it's not like any of you guys pressured me or anything! Lol, jk'ing.^^

-One more thing! The very lovely Trisana Tennant wrote me a one-shot that's posted up in her Songbook of Memories series, and while you should read all of them because they're all pretty awesome, chapter 85 is the most epic thing in the universe right now and you should read it and you should give her love for it. Srsly.

**xxx**

Anonymous Reviews:

Lumbergh: Despite the character you used, I frickin love you. I don't think anyone else has seen Office Space, so I'm really happy to have seen that reference, despite how much ass kickery someone would get if they ever said it to me.^^


	3. Part Three

**xxx  
****Part Three  
****xxx**

Since discovering the identity of his Santa the day before, many things have changed for Alfred. For one, he doesn't quite get the same feeling when finding the new gift on his desk (which turned out to a new mouse pad to replace the grimy one he had been using for some time now, featuring Professor Frink awesomely enough) and he's picked up the habit of ducking into the nearest hiding position whenever Ivan is on path to stroll right by him.

"So how long do you plan to keep that up?" Gilbert asks as he emerges from behind the water cooler.

Alfred pats himself off as he straightens himself out and says, "It's just a reflex, I'm not doing it on purpose or anything."

"So the whole looking around before doing it is reflex?"

"Exactly," he replies and begins to walk away, hoping to continue his way to the printing room without any company.

Though as he makes his way again, Gilbert continues to follow, snapping his fingers for Antonio's attention when passing the brunets' cubicle. Needless to say Antonio joins their troupe, and not long after, Francis tags along the moment he spies them heading in the same direction.

"In my awesome opinion," Gilbert begins one they're inside the room, "it's pretty damn obvious that you're trying to avoid him."

"Is this about him hiding behind everything every time he sees Ivan?" Antonio asks.

"What else could it be?" Francis answers in turn. "Only everybody's been noticing."

"It's not that bad," Alfred sweatdrops and starts the printer up. "Really, you're exaggerating."

"No, I even think Ivan's noticed it."

"He did look a little gloomy when he passed me by earlier," Antonio agrees.

"Well, genius only tried to hide behind a water cooler," Gilbert points out.

Alfred sighs heavily. "Look, it's none of your guy's business anyway so-" He cuts himself off, the printer behind him making a terrible beeping noise that calls his attention much to his dismay. "PC load letter? The fuck does that mean?"

He swipes at the machine, only to knock off the paper tray and causes a chaos that adds so much more grief to his life. The trio are barely able to keep their amusement to themselves as they bear witness to Alfred being pummeled with flying sheets of paper before Francis finally approaches and unplugs the machine from the wall.

"I think you're a bit too tensed over the subject," he says with the cord still in hand. "You're fighting with a printer."

"He does that all the time though," Antonio puts in. "Everyone pretty much hears him when it happens."

"So basically I'm so noticeable to everyone on anything I do," mutters Alfred.

"That makes you a definite creeper magnet," Gilbert says. "That's gotta be worth something."

"Shut up, Gil."

"You really shouldn't call Ivan a creeper," Antonio picks up. "You hardly know him."

"I lived with him," his friend reminds.

"No, you lived in the same apartment building as him, and being someone who does the oddest things when we go out drinking, you shouldn't be talking about what others do when they get drunk."

Gilbert only scoffs and looks away as Francis agrees with and even compliments Antonio for the short speech.

"He makes everything seem so negative," Antonio shrugs. "And it doesn't have to be."

"Optimistic point taken, Tony, my good man," Alfred interjects, "But right now I'm kind of in a position where I think I need to know more about my opponent before I can make a counterstrike."

"It's not a war, Alfred," Francis sighs. "If your main concern is not knowing anything about him, a simple conversation will suffice."

"Okay, first of all," Alfred begins, "when it comes to Christmas gifting, it's a total war. And second… I'm not sure how to start a conversation with him."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"No, I'm serious! I know I need to talk to him somehow, but I don't how to start it up without feeling really awkward."

"You should invite him out to lunch," Antonio tells him. "You always talk more freely when you're eating."

"And there's no way he'll hear you say something stupid since no one can really tell what you're saying while you stuff your mouth anyway," puts in Gilbert.

"You're a real pal," Alfred says to him. "Y'know that?" He shakes his head lightly before starting up again with, "And no, the last thing I'm gonna do is go out to lunch with him. Not only would that be really awkward, I have no doubt the three of you will play spy and listen in at what we'd say at the table."

"We can do that actually," says Gilbert. "I have this mini walkie talkie set that we could hook up and use that to spy on your table and another set that would be able to give you feedback from ours if we wanted."

Alfred only stares at him unbelievingly. "Did you wanna be a spy or something when you were a kid?"

"It's better than wanting to be a Jedi."

"Or Wolverine, that was my second option."

"That's not so terrible of an idea," Francis muses. "If we keep a tab on your table, we'd be able to help you out of any awkward situations by giving you advice."

"That's a great idea!" Antonio agrees.

"Let's not forget that it was my idea first," Gilbert puts in.

"It doesn't matter who's idea it was first," says Francis. "The point is that we actually have a plan of action and it's completely ingenious."

"Do we get to wear our sunglasses again?" Antonio asks him.

"But of course!"

"I didn't actually give my consent to this," Alfred tries to tell them and is promptly ignored.

"I don't want to go to Chothckie's," says Gilbert. "Worst drink selection ever."

"But their service is better than any of the other's close by," Francis tells him.

"Why don't we go to Flingers?" Antonio suggests.

"Yes! We should go to Flingers!"

"You just wanna go there 'cause the chick with the rack works there."

Alfred throws his hands up into the air exasperatingly "You guys can go ahead and plan whatever the hell you want, but I'm not gonna take him out to lunch."

And thus, Alfred finds himself sitting inside Flingers restaurant at a table with none other than Ivan Braginsky across from him. In his ear sat a lone ear bud that let him hear everything that was said at a booth in his line of sight disguised as a normal headphone, and attached to the back of his tie is another small microphone that is able to broadcast any conversation over to those three hiding none too discreetly behind menus and their sunglasses.

Alfred sighs inwardly and thinks over his plight. Why did Matthew and Arthur have to be sent over to another office to train new comers? Why did he allow himself to get caught up in this idea that he totally didn't really want to be involved in at all? And why was Ivan looking at him so oddly? Well, it would help if he actually said something instead of just letting them sit in utter silence.

"So," he begins. "How's the mail room treating you?"

"Fairly well," the other replies unsurely. "There's always a little more to do around this time of the year, but it's not really an issue since no one bothers me and there's never a real need to leave it."

"That can't be good," Alfred says absently. "Gotta get out and show that skin some sun, y'know."

"Don't say that Alfred," he hears Francis say. "The man likes you, he's going to be insecure about his appearance around you."

"Not that it's a bad thing," Alfred quickly states. "You look really good with pale skin."

He faintly hears Gilbert gag as Ivan's mentioned pale complexion collects a healthy pink flush. He even feels his own cheeks heat up as he realizes his words. He's barely able to believe that he's said such a thing.

"It's okay, Alfred," Antonio's voice comes over the ear piece. "You just need to bring out that charisma we all know you have."

"Way to sound like a camp counselor, Tony."

"Gilbert, be quiet."

"So…" Ivan begins this time. "I was able to watch The Simpsons last night."

"Really?" Alfred grins. "Awesome! Whadja think?"

"Well, it wasn't really an episode actually. My sister and I watched the movie while we ate dinner."

"Oh, God," Alfred groans. "The movie is not the best place to start out with introducing yourself to The Simpsons. Yeah, I still paid twelve dollars to see it in theatres and all, but I had such an issue with it."

"Hm, like what?"

"Okay, you know that wedding video Marge goes back for and then tapes over?" Alfred asks him and only continues on when Ivan nods his head in affirmation. "Yeah, well, that's a lie. Homer and Marge never had a wedding, not like a real wedding anyway. She was already halfway through her pregnancy when they got married, and that was at a roadside church place in the middle of nowhere with just them. No family, no friends, just them and a cake in the shape of a whale."

"A whale?"

"Yup, and it said 'Married to a whale of a wife'. I remember 'cause Marge says something about how she doesn't believe that her friends or family are going to be showing up and a Levi's truck passes them by to which Homer asks her if she thought that truck was really full of jeans."

Ivan chuckles at his memory, but through the ear piece he hears Gilbert say, "Oh my God, he doesn't just look like a nerd, he is one."

"Him and Matthew look almost the same," Antonio points out.

"Yeah but you see, Mattie has this cute look to him. Alfred's just a dork."

Alfred can't help but be offended. "Dick."

Ivan's eyes widen considerably, thinking that he's offended the blonde somehow. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh, no!" Alfred exclaims. "Not you! I was thinking of something Gilbert said when I told them the same thing. He's such a dick, called me a dork."

"But you are a dork," Ivan says is instantly shell shocked at his own admission. "Not to say it's a bad thing, I don't mean it in a bad way. I like how you're a dork."

Alfred looks on at Ivan almost fondly as he melts into a stuttering mess all for the sake of saving face. He knows the other means no harm in his words, only that he's attempting to tell him there's no shame in any of his interests.

"Nah, I guess I am a dork," Alfred laughs. "Y'know if my cubicle is anything to go by."

"You mean the anime clippings and super hero montage up on your walls? Not that I've been searching them out or anything, they're just hard to miss."

"That is what they're there for. I don't know why I fight the dork status, that's just like given proof. Ah, guess it's fine, I'll wear the title with pride."

"Oh, then would it be too much to ask after the framed Superman picture?"

"Arthur gave me that," Alfred smiles. "It was some joke gift that he thought would bug me so to piss him off, I put it up."

"I've noticed how close you and Arthur are," Ivan replies quietly.

"He's worried about yours and Arthur's relationship," Francis observes.

In the background Gilbert snorts, "No shit, Franny, really?"

"Yeah," Alfred replies to Ivan. "We've been bff's since high school pretty much. It's like having my own overbearing older brother. Seriously, there are times he will just not back off and it's soo annoying."

The reply seems to settle any sort of worry that might have bubbled up within Ivan. "Sibling instincts are often like that. Though sometimes it has a reason."

"Ugh, tell me you're not an overbearing older brother."

"No, younger. I feel as though I take care of my sister more nowadays."

"That's different though," Alfred argues. "Brother's gotta have a sister's back. Which is totally understandable, props to you for not being one of those jerks that just let whatever happen."

Again, Ivan's cheeks tint at the compliment (or what could be considered a compliment) and goes on to say, "She actually works here, she should be now." He pauses while his eyes search out for a familiar figure in the vicinity. "Ah, there she's is, right over there."

He points towards a corner of the restaurant behind Alfred. The blonde turns around none too discreetly and sees a cuter female version of Ivan with a very well-endowed chest and suddenly realizes why Francis was so happy to hear the establishment Ivan picked out for their not-date. He stares for only a few seconds longer, long enough for the other to sense eyes on her and once turning in their direction, waves happily. Alfred turns back and is able to see the end of Ivan's return wave and smiles.

"She's gorgeous," he says. "Could totally tell why you'd be have to be over protective and all."

Ivan nods in agreement, and while he looks generally pleased at the compliment Alfred pays his sister, his smile wilts just enough to be noticeable. "Yes, there's always been several men surrounding her, though ususally for the wrong reasons."

Before he's able to receive another scolding from Francis, Alfred quickly says, "I'm pretty sure, but I wouldn't know anything about that. Yeah, I don't even like girls. Y'know, ew."

Gilberts boisterous laugh reaches his ears even without the earpiece. "Nice one, Jones," he says, "Next you can tell him how afraid you are of cooties."

Alfred isn't able to fight off the heat rising on his cheeks as he tears the ear bud away from him and pockets it while clicking the microphone behind his tie off. Setting the items aside, as well as ignoring the indignant shouts from a certain table, Alfred clears his throat and flashes Ivan a quick grin before making himself comfortable in his seat once more.

"So, what about you, Ivan?" he asks. "Everyone knows tons of things about me and stuff, but I really don't know anything about you."

The rest of their outing together passes pleasantly enough as Ivan indulges his request and without further interruption from a certain trio of insufferably horrid friends. A repeat of the excursion even occurs the next day, much to the infuriation it causes Arthur when the time to explain just why Alfred was having lunch with Ivan for the second day in a row and consequently for the remainder of the week arrives. Everything is only settled by having just about the entire team wear sunglasses while hiding in a nearby booth to oversee each lunch date, much to Alfred's dismay and Ivan's oblivion.

Though while everything may appear fine and dandy, by the time the day of their annual office party and Secret Santa exchange comes, Alfred still has no gift for Ivan. He worries about this while playing with his new light saber with five other people staring at him.

"Is there a reason my desk is being crowded?" he asks.

"Whadja get him?" comes the immediate question from Gilbert no less.

Alfred breathes in heavily and allows the purple plastic to fall back into it's base. "I didn't."

They all more or less exclaim, "What!"

Alfred shoulders sag with each turn they take at insulting his inconsideration and thoughtlessness. Even Arthur took a stab, calling him selfish and rude for at least not paying any sort of compensation for the fair amount of money that's been spent on him.

"I tried," he tells them. "I really did, but I just… I just couldn't find anything."

He thrusts his light saber out forward once more, the purple emitting out and presses the small button to create sound effects. "Look at this," he says. "How do I repay this? This shows that he actually puts a lot of thought into what he gives me and I just can't give him anything."

"How does this show the effort he's put in exactly?" Arthur asks.

"Um, because if you ever really listened to me, you'd know I lost my light saber at that convention a few months ago and that Mace Windu is my fave Jedi Master on the Council," Alfred tells him. "Hence why he got me the purple one!"

Gilbert instantly makes a face. "Dude, what about Yoda? He's like Jedi Master Supreme, his midi-chlorian count is over seventeen grand, no where near as epic as Anakin's, but the highest in the Council."

"That is such bullshit."

"Is not, Qui-gon said it himself when he ran his blood test on Tatooine."

"Not that, I mean the whole midi-chlorian crap. Totally ruins the whole mysticism behind the Force. I refuse to acknowledge any of it."

"Right, because the Force is supposed to be based on an idea of faith instead of something logical for something labeled as science fiction."

Alfred points his lightsaber in Gilbert's direction. "You wanna go?"

"Gentlemen," Francis interrupts. "You're both equally nerdy, can we please move on?"

"He started it," Alfred mutters, though consents to the end of their nerd-off along with Gilbert. He lowers his light saber once more and begins again with, "So yeah, I didn't know what to get him. Everything just seemed so… stiff and blah."

"As always, your vocabulary astounds me," says Arthur. "But, I understand what you mean at any rate. You're in a bit of a situation here."

"No kidding."

The group disperses not long after, each wishing him the best of luck in handling the problem and feeling slightly grateful for not being in such a dilemma themselves. Alfred is only able to accept their words with little thanks and return to staring at his computer screen. His alone time is broken only once, by the very reason of his passive panic ironically enough.

Their exchange is short lived however, as it's only a simple conversation in which Ivan informs the blonde that because of their normal working day being cut off short, what with it turning into their annual office party and all, he prefers to work through diligently as to not fall behind. Alfred is only too happy to accept the excuse of not being able to take his lunch with the other and plans to make good of his alone time to search last minute before the event is to take place.

However, it turns out to be an entirely futile attempt as when he returns to his cubicle after pushing through mobs of last minute shoppers, Alfred allows his head to hit his desk and prays for a miracle.

Time passes slowly, the inevitable office party which will host their annual Secret Santa Exchange approaches and only makes Alfred feel that much more nervous and that much more guilty for not buying Ivan anything. The anxiety only builds up when the Christmas committee start decorating for the impending festivities and their boss, one Roderich Eldenstein, calls them together for a quick conference before leaving them to their own devices.

"And another reminder that I cannot stress enough," he says. "There is to be no alcohol served within the office building. Do I make myself clear?"

A slight murmur of affirmations and the like pass through the mass crowd, perhaps not the ideal response though considering the usual reactions he received the previous times he's called the entire office together, it's the most enthusiastic. So, satisfied with the feedback, he takes his leave of the building and the very second he's off the premises completely, the computers are shut down, a karaoke machine is broken out, and liquor bottles are passed around by that oh so infamous trio themselves.

The Santa exchange begins almost immediately, nearly as soon as Feliciano and some of the others from the second floor join the lower level employees. Feliciano is the one to start of the ordeal, being too excited to wait until any official start of the tradition and gives a neatly wrapped gift to Feliks.

After the others go through the motions of handing out their gifts to their receivers, they congregate around Alfred who stands by his lonesome and uncharacteristically out of the way. Francis is happy enough to pour him a drink and with being surrounded by his friends, he finally begins to relax and watch as Yong Soo attempt to drag Yao up to the karaoke machine to sing with him after Kiku's turn.

Lovino approaches them not long after though, holding a fairly large gift and it reminds Alfred of the one he didn't buy and sinks into another spiral of depression.

"Lovino!" Antonio greets. "Is that present for me?"

"It's for Alfred," the other grouses and Antonio instantly pulls a sad face. "I ended up being his Secret Santa."

"Why is Alfred so lucky?" he pouts. "He already has a Secret Santa and now he gets you too."

"It's not like I wanted to! I told Feli it wasn't fair because he was already getting gifts, but he made me so here!" He shoves the wrapped box into Alfred's arms harshly and storms off with, "Merry fucking Christmas."

"Lovino, wait!" Antonio calls while chasing after him. "I have a present for you!"

Alfred lowers his drink down onto a nearby surface and starts to unwrap his gift. Underneath the wrappings is a novelty phone in the shape of a hamburger, the clearance sticker still attached over the original price.

"So thoughtful," Alfred chuckles. "Who knew five dollars could get you so much?"

"What is with this and hamburgers?" Arthur mumbles to himself.

"Can't hear you, Arthur," Alfred tells him while holding the box up to his ear. "I'm talking into a hamburger."

They stare him with dulled eyes, thinking it's virtually impossible for the blonde to realize that they will never understand his references.

"From Juno!" he cries out. "You guys are lame!"

"Speaking of lame," Gilbert starts, "lookit who's kickin' it by himself in a corner."

Every head in the group turns towards a far off corner where Ivan stands by himself, nursing a drink of his own. Matthew quietly berates Gilbert for being so inconsiderate of Ivan's condition, since he himself hates being so alone. Of course Gilbert tries to deny the statement, though no one bothers to pay him any attention.

"Should I go talk to him?" Alfred asks Arthur.

"You're going to have to eventually."

Alfred gives him a sharp nod and hands him his gift before starting off in Ivan's direction, all those left behind paying very close attention as he makes his way closer. It's not so far of a journey, but to the blonde it feels like an eternity as he approaches the other man and he needs to clear his throat out before being able to speak.

"Hey Ivan," he greets. "What're you doing here by your lonesome?"

Ivan smiles kindly at him before confessing, "I'm just watching everyone have fun."

"That doesn't sound very fun."

"It's entertaining at times. If you watch enough, you'll notice interesting things."

"Huh… So you see anything like that so far?"

"I… saw that Lovino gave you something," he tells Alfred and eyes briefly flicker towards those still watching (who in turn, quickly look away and act as through they weren't doing such a thing).

"Oh, yeah! He was my Secret Santa, apparently," the blonde informs him. "Well, one of them anyway. Personally, I like my first gift better."

Alfred doesn't miss the smile Ivan hides in the folds of his scarf and in some way it even pleases himself to have been the cause behind it.

"You wanna come over and have a drink with us?" he asks.

Ivan happily accepts the offer and follows Alfred back to his friends who are all in some off state of not knowing exactly how to prepare themselves for this. Though Gilbert is the only one who shows the most apprehension, the company accepts the newcomer easily enough for a steady progression of their (and evidently everyone else's by the looks of it) planned night of binge drinking to continue as such.

As the party continues, a shirt or two amongst the crowd go missing as those who have lost them stumble onto any platform available to them and sway to the music emitting from their make-shift karaoke stage and the screeches of people mutilating their favorite songs. All the same, it's a sort of controlled atmosphere that only teeters on the brink of chaos with every downed shot and bad touch that goes no further than just that.

At least until from the depth of his jacket, Francis pulls out that one sprig of plant that always causes mayhem to stir; mistletoe. It's almost instantaneous the way Gilbert grabs Matthew's hand to cavort him off as far as he can from his friend and Alfred does the same with Ivan, leading the other to be entirely confused by this sudden behavior.

"You don't wanna be around Francis when he brings out the mistletoe!" he quickly explains and drags him off.

How true his words are, as poor Arthur is the only one left to fall victim to his mouth raping for not being quick enough to escape, and sure enough Francis takes complete advantage and holds the shorter blonde close by wrapping his arm around the other's waist and pressing them together before letting their lips collide. Arthur fights the other off for only so long before being subdued into accepting (and even reciprocating) the kiss that had those nearby cheering as it deepens.

It's with this action, and the call for "body shots!", that has those wandering hands to gain the courage to linger and even delve further, as well as cause certain persons to be dragged off through the maze of cubicles and into empty bathroom stalls.

Amidst the rampant revelries and chaos escalating even further out of control, both Ivan and Alfred hide in the printer room and work their way past the fairly good buzz they both have with some snagged liquor bottles taken as provisions while hiding away from it all.

"Hey," Alfred calls out. "Hey, hey, Ivan… What do you want for Christmas?"

Apparently the question catches Ivan off guard, as he splutters some of the alcohol he had been drinking while it was asked. The action has Alfred laughing behind his hand as the other fights off being flustered and looks over at him seriously.

"You're not going to get me anything, are you?" he asks with the sole intent of refusing the blonde for anything of the sort, but he can't quite push down that hopeful bubble rising up in his chest.

Alfred nods enthusiastically while saying, "Damn right I am and you know why? Because… Y'know, it's not because I have to, no it's not that, it's because I want to!"

The blonde shifts to sit on his knees and faces towards Ivan, the distance between their faces nearly minuscule as he clearly states, "I want to get you something for Christmas, because it's not fair!"

He throws his arms around the other and buries his face into his chest, muttering about unfairness and other things that make no sense to Ivan who internally flails as his face heats up considerably.

"Alfred," he says. "I don't understand!"

Alfred slowly moves his face to the side and mutters, "It's not fair that you've been getting me all these awesome Christmas presents and I couldn't even figure out how to buy you one and I really really want to."

Ivan instantly pales at the confession and pushes the blonde off of him. He tries to quickly scramble away from the scene and crawl for the door, but Alfred latches onto his legs and sends him crashing into the floor with the blonde laying on top of his legs.

"Where're you goin'?" he asks. "Iv_aaaaa_n…"

"I'm sorry," the other murmurs against the floor. "I didn't mean to keep giving you gifts, it was only supposed to be the one time, but you always looked so happy getting them and I liked knowing that it was because of me and I couldn't _stop_."

The room goes silent afterwards, though it's only for a moment before the sounds of Alfred shuffling off of Ivan's legs and plopping down next to him fill the air. Ivan attempts to continue on his way but the blonde keeps a good hold of him by grabbing onto his scarf and forces him to look at him. Ivan only retaliates by keeping his eyes shut tightly and Alfred only stares at his heated face while the room goes quiet once more.

"You couldn't stop?" Alfred questions after having enough of the silence.

The lids of Ivan's eyes slowly begin to open, though he continues to avoid any eye contact with Alfred, even as the blonde reaches forward to brush away part of his bangs lowers his hand to cup at the other's cheek. Before he is able to continue on with anything though, Ivan picks up the conversation with his own statement.

"You're first gift," he says carefully. "I knew you needed writing utensils because everyone was complaining about the way you stole theirs and thought nothing bad could come out of leaving a small gift that you would most likely forget. But then I overheard the way you lost your cell phone-"

"Yeah, why didn't you just give that back to me normally? Like in person?"

"Wouldn't that come off as creepy?"

"Not any more than leaving anonymous presents."

Ivan promptly lowers his head in an attempt to hide away, only to kept from doing so as the blonde coots closer and uses both hands to level their eye contact. Again, Ivan closes his own to avoid such a thing and Alfred can't resist smiling at his antics.

"You're really cute," he says. "Y'know."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is," Alfred insists. "You're like a huge teddy bear!"

As if to emphasize his example, Alfred wraps his arms loosely around Ivan's neck and nuzzles his head into his chest. Ivan freezes at the movement for little more than a moment before attempting to force the blonde away, pressing his palms flat against the other's shoulder and pushes at his body.

"Alfred," he whines lowly, "Stop it."

"But you're cuddly."

"You still need to stop."

"Why?"

"Because… it makes me uncomfortable."

Alfred ceases his nuzzling and moves his head to face the other, letting his chin dig into Ivan's chest. "Why?"

"Because…" Ivan trails off and after a short shuddering breath, he is able to quietly say, "I like you."

The room goes quiet, almost to the point where not even their breath is audible enough to notice. It's as if it would become one of those scenes, where one confesses their attraction and the recipient either rejects or goes through the pattern of having their breath hitch before delving into an acceptance and the two move on from there.

Alfred's breath does hitch, but instead of responding to Ivan's confession in an adult manner, he decides to pseudo-quote, "I like cake."

Ivan's eyes widen only a fraction and for little more than a second before his lips widen in a smile and he laughs lightly at the reply.

"Wait, did you get that?" Alfred asks, somewhat taken aback.

His bewilderment only grows as Ivan happily nods to the best of his abilities and without any hesitation, leans upward and presses their lips together harshly.

Instantly, Ivan shuts his eyes, if only out of fear of having either of his eyes taken out by Alfred's glasses. It's only after the blonde tilts his head to keep their noses from mashing against one another that he actually does realize what is happening.

He presses his palms flat against the other's shoulders and nudges him away, all the while pleading for him to stop.

"What?" Alfred asks. "What's wrong?"

"You're kissing me."

"Well, yeah, I thought you liked me."

"I do, but you're drunk."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure I can still get it up if you wanna go that far."

"That's not what I meant," Ivan mumbles as he turns his head away while feeling his face heat up once more.

Alfred reaches out once more to him, cupping his cheek and forcing the other to make eye contact which Ivan does so willingly this time around.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

Ivan's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water before finally able to replay with, "I don't want to be some drunken memory."

The words hit Alfred instantly, and in little more than a few seconds he realizes through the light bit of fog in his mind that it may not have been the most clever idea to be so affectionate with the other man while under the influence.

"I…" he begins and trails off. "Don't want that either."

Before Ivan is able to say anything in response, Alfred ducks his head down to close the gap between them once more and gently pecks at his lips before pressing their foreheads together. It's in this position, with Alfred's glasses being a nuisance and Ivan trying with all his might to keep from turning an even darker shade of red, that a shot sentence is spoken and because a greater gift for the latter than anything Alfred could have ever bought.

"'Cause I like you, too."

As Ivan's breath took it's own moment to hitch while Alfred played the bashful role and attempted to pull away. However, before he is able to do so, Ivan wraps his arms around him and brings him int

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

Alfred blinks owlishly, his cheeks flushed pink as he really begins to recognize that yes, he does in fact feel this way, and finds that in the end he's only able to grin and nod. All the same, Ivan accepts his childish confession and initiates a kiss of his own. It's a little more hesitant, though perhaps more heartfelt now that both parties are aware of the reciprocation for one another's affection.

"This was a really good Christmas," Alfred mutters against his lips and Ivan whole heartedly agrees.

**xxx**

**- **I'm such an epic fail. -headdesks-

-It took me forever and I'm so frickin' sorry! Like, you remember Ritsu from Furuba? Yeah, if we were all like, in a room together for some reason I would be spazzing out sorries like no tomorrow just like him. But I won't write it out here, because that would be weird.

- I knew it was gonna be late, but not _this_ late and all. I tried to get it out earlier but like they say, you can sleep in a coffin but the past ain't through with you. -sigh- But this isn't a blog, so I won't get into that.

- Not only is it late, but there is no sexy tiemz. WHY! ... Because, it felt really wrong. Like, it didn't belong, it just wasn't right to do so I cut it. Feel free to maim me. (Though, I would like to point out that it'll be hard for me to bring out new stuff if you do. Yeah, think about that.)

- The holidays are more than over and I'm sorry again, for making everyone wait for so long. But hey, at least I finished. :) No? Ah... Thanks for your guy's patience and I totally wouldn't blame anyone for not reviewing or anything.

-And srsly, this is me right now: youtube . com / watch?v=yPxXa4ORmOw

I'm sorry! DX

**xxx**

Anonymous Reviews:

Jaaku-san: Thank you.^^

Lumbergh: ...Thank you? And I know, my narration is fail at times. -_-;


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